"What did you even talk about for five hours?" queried the few people I told.
" Everything? Nothing? I don't really know."
It was one week ago, and I was in Billings, Montana to attend the memorial service for my friend Trudy's husband, Frank. We moved to Billings in 2004 for a job for Gerald. I always knew it wouldn't be forever. We stayed seven years, long enough for Eli to graduate from high school, and then relocated to Utah in 2011. When people ask me if I liked living in Billings, my response is always the same: The winters practically killed me, but I wouldn't trade my time there for anything because of a few lifelong friends I made.
One of those is Jay Ericksen. When people see her comments on my socials, they often assume she's somehow related to Gerald, because his last name is Erichsen. She's not. (Note the one letter difference in the spelling.) I met Jay less than a week after we moved to Billings. I showed up at church with 4-year-old Seth by my side. Jay was up on the stand playing prelude music on the organ. In her eyes, Seth will forever be four years old. Same, Jay, same. Though I don't think 25-year-old Seth would agree. We barely knew each other when we embarked on a roadtrip to Utah, where she had family, and where I had Shulamith, who was a freshman at Westminster College. I won't retell the story of that trip because you can read about it here, but let's just say Jay and I have a history of lengthy, sustained conversations. This night was no different. We walked into Applebee's at 5:30 p.m. and walked out at 10:30 p.m. In those five hours, never was there even the hint of a lull in the conversation.
Another one of my Montana friends is Trudy Carey, whose awesome husband Frank passed away recently. Trudy and I also go back to the beginning of my time in Billings. I have written several posts that include her, but this one is my favorite because it also includes Frank and explains how much both of them helped me with Shulamith's wedding preparation. Trudy was my devoted walking partner the whole seven years we were in Billings. Seven days a week for seven years, we walked the 4-mile roundtrip trail near our neighborhood. Yes, we missed days, of course we did. But mostly we didn't. When you spend over an hour with someone nearly every day, you come to them well. Trudy and I became each other's sounding board for the events of our days, and through Trudy, I came to know Frank.
The two of them had a remarkable relationship in their 50-year marriage. They were truly each other's "person." Frank was retired by the time I met them, while Trudy had only just begun her career, having raised their four children before returning to school to get her degrees. So every day, Frank drove to the university where Trudy was the Director of Disability Support Services to have lunch with her. For real. Every day. Frank was quiet and funny and so intelligent. And his memorial service manifested that. It was perhaps the loveliest memorial service I've ever attended. Trudy, their four children, and all eleven grandchildren sat proudly in the first two rows of the chapel to honor their beloved husband, father, and "budda." All three talks presented a clear vision of Frank Carey, who he was and what he valued. The music perfectly complemented the speakers' words, especially the beautiful duet sung by two of Frank and Trudy's granddaughters.
I'm so glad I was able to be there last weekend to be with my friend and to join with a community of family and friends to celebrate Frank's life.
